Bottlecaps, Nail Polish, and Photographs
by DJRabidPunk
Summary: Zuko loves Aang through a camera lens, until things are taken out of his hands and they're drawn together. Besides, it's the little things that count. Rated M for yaoi smut. AU.


**Bottlecaps, Nail Polish, and Photographs**

It started when he saw him smile for the first time. The group of kids had been laughing in the grass outside of Uncle's shop when Zuko had looked up from his idle napkin scribbling and seen the bald kid's wide, cheeky grin. He didn't romanticize it and say it was love at first sight, but there was something there. It was weak and pale and fluttery, but it was something infinitely more than the frank disdain he had for most people. Intrigued, Zuko started to watch.

There was the dark-skinned boy and girl, probably siblings. The boy seemed flippantly sarcastic, and the girl was motherly. The little blind girl sat slightly removed from the rest of them, quiet except for the occasional remark that always made someone laugh. And then there was the bald boy. He was constantly moving, drawing attention from the others without even trying. He was obviously what held the little band together, judging from how often the girls bickered. Zuko watched him chatter, occasionally talking with his slender hands, expressions shifting so rapidly that Zuko was starting to get a headache and yet he couldn't look away.

Zuko's fingers itched for his camera, to sketch him, anything. He'd pulled a fistful of napkins out of the dispenser, clicking his pen compulsively as he started to outline the curve of his cheek, the now-pursed lines of his mouth. And then Uncle set a teacup down on the table with a clatter, and he scrambled to cover his doodles as Uncle smiled. He quietly sipped his tea, and then he made the mistake of glancing out the window. Uncle's smile widened conspiratorially.

"That's Aang and his friends. They're nice kids. Perhaps you should join them sometime, or invite them for a cup of tea." Zuko tried not to look aghast as he rolled his eyes and drowned himself in chamomile.

**-FIRE NATION-AIR NOMADS- WATER TRIBE- EARTH KINGDOM-**

The first three weeks come and go.

Aang liked to waggle his eyebrows, especially at the darker girl, though when the blind girl asked him to wiggle his ears, he turned himself blue trying to do it. That was the first picture Zuko took, though the glass put an odd flare across half of the picture. He'd figure out how to fix that, eventually.

His eyes were clear gray, his eyebrows were dark brown, and his fingernails were orange. Always. One afternoon he pulled off his shoes, socks and thrust a bottle of polish into the older girl's hands while exchanging banter with the other two, battling their snarkiness with a smile. And then he seems to pull out his trump, a sneering drawl that caused slack jaws and mad giggles. Zuko tried not to grin as he captured that little victory.

He detested wearing hats, which the girl tried to force on him often. He only conceded once, though the beanie made him scratch every once and awhile. After a slightly explosive fight, which provided the first shots of Aang without a smile, she didn't ask anymore. The relationship mended, too quickly for Zuko's taste. He didn't like the girl, or Aang's obvious attraction to her. Luckily, she seemed oblivious.

Aang liked pranks and candy too much to be healthy. His favorites were Bottlecaps and licorice, though he only ate the root beer Bottlecaps, and he always shared with his friends. He also liked to scramble up the little beech tree that was next to their spot. He'd disappear into the branches, the only sign of his presence the occasional cluster of leaves that floated down and pale, disjointed snatches of his face, hands, leg. Zuko changes them into black and white and sometimes he looks at them when it rains. He stares at the captured edges of Aang's softly contemplative smile and can forget that it was raining the night when his mother was taken. Banished. Killed. He's never really been sure.

Soon the mild winter was passing into spring, warm and light and humid. Aang can't seem to tolerate proper clothes. As soon as there's no snow Aang goes shoeless on the muddy ground. As soon as the chill leaves the air and buds are blooming on the beech tree, he's going through the flowing motions of Tai Chi with the darker girl, grace in his smile and the sun in his skin. Zuko is entranced by his bare shoulders, and snaps endless pictures when he should be taking orders and making tea. Uncle doesn't call him out on it, and he doesn't acknowledge that he's acting kind of…like a stalker. But he is.

This bothers him deeply at night. He thinks about the 396 pictures of Aang saved on a flash drive, and he twirls the little plastic stick through his fingers when he can't sleep and is angry at _nothing_. Everything. Mostly, himself.

He's sick, but he won't stop. He thinks Aang must be twelve, maybe thirteen at the most. He won't stop.

He'll talk to Aang.

Zuko writes this promise into his brain, across pages in his sketchbook, on a scrap of paper that he burns at the alter he has set up for his mother. The carnations mask the scent of smoke, and her picture smiles at him warmly in the candle light. He nods to her silently, firms the promise with a prayer, and goes to the café.

He doesn't do it. Not then. He can't. Not when he sees them.

The girl and Aang sit next to each other, fingers tangled innocently as they trade words against the trunk of the beech. When her brother isn't looking, she presses a shy kiss to his lips and he smiles so happily. And Zuko's heart breaks a little, the weak thing that he hadn't realized had grown wings now laying dejectedly in the bottom of his rib cage, a sad song pouring out of it's dove beak. He forces himself to work for Uncle, to pay back for the hours he spent _wasting_staring at some stupid kid. Uncle's smile is forced and a little grim when he accepts Jin's request for a date.

Zuko tells himself that he likes Jin. He likes it when she's around, he likes the way she smiles. He likes her quiet understanding that he doesn't like to move things too fast. And yet when they're in the café, he can't stop staring out the window. She finally says that things aren't going slow, they're simply not going. And he doesn't say anything back. So she leaves.

And he starts taking pictures again.

The blind girl is teaching him something that he can't put a specific name to but is familiar with. He sucks at it. She pushes him down constantly, then berates him. He slowly slides away from her critique with sad eyes. Zuko chews his lip and watches as Aang gets slowly to his feet. He feels like he should be mad at the girl, because she's too harsh, but he knows what she's doing. She's trying to get a reaction, and it's entirely necessary to help him grow a backbone. He just wishes that she wasn't quite so brash and jarring with him.

Finally she flicks him in the head, right between the eyes. And he blows up, shouting hoarsely. Zuko can tell because they're standing close enough that he can hear, but can't make out the words. He stares intently, and then for a second he panics, because the blind girl looks straight at him and smirks, ignoring Aang's tirade for a moment.

Zuko calmly tells himself to breathe, because she's blind, right? Right?

Wrong, apparently, because the next day she walks into the café and leans against the counter, smirking at him again. He makes a hasty excuse about dishes and flees to the back.

A minute later Uncle comes into the back and smiles at him expectantly. He scowls at the pastry crumbs on a plate and scrubs it until it gleams.

"That girl, Toph, wants to talk to you, Zuko. I suggest you do so." The little "I suggest" part means "I really want you to do it, and will be disappointed in you if you don't." Zuko sighs and sets aside the plate with forced care, washes his hands, and wipes them on his apron as he goes over to the table where she sits. He slouches back in it and glares at her. Her smile widens, and she twists her delicate fingers together as she leans forward.

"You like Aang, don't you?" He frowns.

"Well, you get straight to the point, don't you." She almost laughs, but catches herself. She's supposed to be playing "the concerned friend" but she's more entertained by him than wary, it seems. Zuko doesn't quite know how to take that.

"Yeah, I do. But you didn't answer the question." He looks down. Studies the reflections in the silverware, the napkin dispenser, for much too long. Finally he sighs and grits his teeth.

"I don't know. I guess." She raises an eyebrow. The expression is oddly refined on her young face. She's an old soul, as his mom would say. And judging from her clothes, which are a bit plain but cut too well to be cheap, and the very nice necklace that hangs around her neck, she comes from a good family. They probably taught her how to look refined. Like his family, he nearly thinks.

"Well, you take an awful lot of pictures for someone who doesn't know. I'm going to simply say that you do, and aren't willing to admit it to yourself because you're older. Aang is fourteen, by the way." Zuko feels pathetic that he latches onto that information greedily, that he thinks about smooth talking her just so he can get more information about Aang. In result he lashes out too harshly, but he can't care. Not for her.

"And you sound like an awful good friend, talking to the guy who's practically stalking him. It almost sounds like you're propositioning him to me." She holds up her hands, and the palms are oddly rough, callused, for such a little girl. She can't be any older than twelve, and she's small and dainty. He's reminded dimly of his sister at that age, and his scowl deepens. Azula was a sadistic fuck then, too.

"Whatever, man. I'm actually here to make sure you're not going to like, kidnap him or something. You seem alright, if not a little angry and repressed." He scowls at her, suppressing a growl. Her eyes stare fixedly at him, but don't quite meet his. She smiles faintly.

"So can I see your pictures?" A brief chill passes of him. He's uncomfortable with that until he sees her gigantic grin.

"Hah, you were really freaked out there for a second, huh? I understand though. Besides, I'm blind!" She waves a hand over her face, and true to her word, her eyes don't move and she doesn't blink. The motion doesn't register for her, and he feels a surge of empathy. His eye was partially sealed shut after the incident, and he can't really see much out of it. He can at least see out of his other eye, though. She's got nothing, and probably never did. Empathy doesn't sit well in his stomach, though, so he chooses to withdraw.

"You've been a wonderful ray of sunshine in my life," he says dryly, "but I have to get back to work." He rises, but she snags his wrist in a powerful grasp. He flinches, restraining the urge to break her hold.

"Listen, I'll get straight to the point. Either leave Aang alone, or approach him. No more of this covert stalking business, understand?" Her grip tightens to the point of pain. Zuko doesn't bother with politeness anymore; he twists out of her hand and grabs hers, twisting her wrist down unnaturally until she bares her teeth, and then lets go.

"I'm planning on it. I've been…but…I can't." He swallows and moves away, clearing plates and cups off a recently vacated table. She weaves through the tables after him, with an ease that betrays her disadvantage.

"But now Aang is with Katara, and you lost your nerve." A saucer slips from his hands and clatters against the floor, cracked nearly in half. He curses quietly and crouches to pick it up; Toph pauses and puts her hand on his shoulder, the other searching tentatively through the air until she touches the counter.

"It won't last. She doesn't love him like that. He'll be heartbroken, but maybe-" He stands suddenly, unsettling her.

"I don't want to be a rebound, or take advantage of him. I don't want to date him. I just…want to talk to him. Once. That's it." She frowns and cocks her weight onto one hip, fist against it. Zuko moves as silently as possible into the back. Still, she follows him.

"As if. Could you _really_-" He drops the plates into the sink with a splash of suds and broken china. Knuckles white, he grips the edge of the sink.

"Please. This is my business. Leave me alone." There's complete silence for a moment before he hears the bell on the front door twinkle. When he turns around, she's gone.

**-FIRE NATION- AIR NOMADS- WATER TRIBE- EARTH KINGDOM-**

Aang paints his nails dark blue now. It matches the blue of Katara's eyes perfectly, and Zuko can't stand it.

He watches as Aang progresses quickly through the Tai Chi and lessons with Toph. He doesn't take so many pictures now, just stares moodily out the window as she puts her hands on his bare waist to adjust his stance. His blush is too sweet, too candy-coated sugary, but it doesn't stop Zuko's heart from fluttering nervously.

Sometimes it gets too be too much. He can't contain it, that possessive anger that he has no right to but feels anyways. Then he just leaves, even if it's the middle of his shift, and goes to the gym that's across from their apartment and pummels a sandbag. His form is so perfect in a month that he could take Azula down in two moves, but he can't even be proud of it because it just _hurts_. He spends his nights sneaking out to roam the warm streets. Summers cropping it's way into the world, birds and other little city animals popping up everywhere. Zuko almost wants a night of rain, to drown out the adorable-Bambi-ness of it all.

Aang's growing up. It seems like he's taller, but he can't have grown that much. He just holds himself taller, Zuko notices. He doesn't play so many pranks, and he's downright serious in his lessons in the grass with Toph and Katara. Zuko watches how his eyes are solemn and concentrated as Toph guides him through some moves. She only makes one correction, and he smiles and bows to her when they finish.

And then, for three weeks, no one is there.

Zuko goes fucking insane.

He can't sleep. He spends almost all his time at the café, waiting with a gradually souring hope for them to show up. Anyone would do at this point, even Katara, as long as they know what's going on. Iroh subtly tries to encourage him to go home. He doesn't listen, and Uncle understands.

One night he pulls on a sweatshirt and walks down into the small square where the café resides, and he climbs into the beech to sit on Aang's favorite branch. He stares at the stars and sighs, thinking of nothing and everything, and gradually comes to the almost inevitable realization.

He's in love with Aang. Sigh.

The next day, Aang is there, and Zuko can glimpse bandages under his shirt. His hair has grown out, and sticks up a little. It's cute, and Zuko is so relieved to see him again that he actually walks outside, a smile on his face.

Then Toph looks up, a surprised smile on her face, and he stops. No, not right now. He's not ready. He leans against the warm brick of the shop and watches, hands in his pockets. His fingers twitch eagerly, a spare piece of charcoal twirling between them.

Fuck it, he decides after a half-hour. He snags his sketchbook out of his bag and storms across the road, cars be damned, to the grass.

It's like a train wreck. By inserting himself into the situation, everyone looks at him, and the self-conscious little kid in him weeps in terror. Motion comes to a standstill. Aang's eyes are the only ones he cares about, the only ones he can't meet. The siblings are openly glaring at him, and he almost flips them off. Almost. Instead he holds up his sketchbook like a shield, and his voice is too loud when he asks,

"Do you guys mind if I draw here?" There's silence. Then he hears Aang's voice for the first time.

"Sure. Are you going to draw us?" He looks up, then away so fast that colors blur. He nods, and then silently moves away from them to where a big rock sits, opposite the beech. He leans against it and wills them silently to just pretend he's not there as he flips to a clean page. He props the thin pad against his knees and digs his charcoal out of his pocket, and when he glances up, they're talking together and they glance suspiciously every couple of seconds. Aang is outright staring until Katara admonishes him, and then he goes about drawing them.

Before, he only ever concentrated on Aang. Now he captures the group as a whole, Katara's grace and Toph's sprawl, the older boy's careful analysis of him from afar as he sketches. And Aang isn't there. He frowns at his drawing, then up.

Aang's face hovers over the edge of his sketchbook, mouth open in a small "O". He looks up at Zuko and smiles, the expression so familiar, but he's never seen it this close. Zuko's heart implodes, quietly, as Aang asks,

"Wow. Have you been drawing for a long time? These are really good." His hand shakes as he puts charcoal to paper again, but his strokes are sure. He captures Aang's face in smooth lines and gentle, boyish curves. He holds it out a moment later for Aang, who laughs in amazement as he sits back. Pale bandages poke out of the collar of his shirt, wrapped around his shoulder. Zuko swallows.

"That's amazing! I've never seen someone do that. Do it again." He holds it out eagerly for Zuko, and their fingers brush as he takes the sketchbook back. And then his watch blares loudly, breaking the moment that he was imagining they were having.

"I-I have to go." He doesn't, really, but he suddenly wants out. This is too much, too soon. He's not ready, and was stupid to think he could handle it. He jackknifes to his feet, slings his bag over his shoulder, and half-turns until he catches sight of Aang's face.

Aang's eyes have dimmed, the smile faint, like he wants to smile but can't. And he looks as heartbreaking as Zuko feels. Swearing under his breath, he tears out the sketchbook page and scribbles his name and phone number in the corner before taking Aang's hand and folding it carefully inside. Aang blinks at him, and Zuko is close enough to count eyelashes. He takes a mental picture, and then he flees. Almost literally runs away, dodging a car that bumps his hip as it stops and then, when he's out of sight, jogging the rest of the way to the apartment.

Uncle's smile can not be contained the next morning, and Zuko hides his own bashful smile in his teacup.

**-FIRE NATION- AIR NOMADS- WATER TRIBE- EARTH KINGDOM-**

A week later, Aang sits in the grass, leaning against the beech, by himself. Curled up, with his head on his knees and arms around himself. It does not bode well, and then Aang looks up at the sky and starts pulling the grass up in fistfuls. His nails are colorless, and his eyes shimmer in the late-evening light.

Zuko doesn't think about. He breaks his course for the café and goes across the street, sits next to Aang, and gropes in his pocket.

He bought the Bottlecaps that morning, just to try them. He usually hates candy, and has to admit that the root beer ones are the only ones that taste remotely like soda. The others are like Tums, and he took the time to pick them all out and throw them on the sidewalk for the birds. He pulls out the battered box and holds it out to Aang, who glances at it and laughs without humor, taking a couple and popping them into his mouth.

And then he slumps against Zuko and cries.

Zuko freezes for a moment, wondering what the _hell_he's supposed to do in this kind of situation. This wasn't how he pictured his first, true interaction with Aang. But then Aang shudders, and he realizes that this is no ordinary, my-hamster-died-and-I-feel-like-I-should-cry-even-if-I-hated-the-stupid-thing crying. It's deep, heavy, emotional upheaval, I've-been-broken-up-with crying. And Zuko's familiar with this kind, and knows that the last thing he should do is fuck it up with words or hugs or anything. He just lets Aang get it all out, and when he sits up again and wipes his nose on the back of his hand, he pours a couple more Bottlecaps into Aang's hand and waits until he's chewing to talk.

"I'm sorry. I know that probably means next to nothing, but break-ups suck." Aang nods and swallows, shaking the box. There's only a few root beers left, and Zuko lets him take them without comment.

"So what was her excuse?" Aang frowns at him, clearly confused.

"I mean, I can't think why she would have a legitimate reason to break up with you. So she obviously made some lame-ass excuse. What was it?" Aang's frown deepens, but he doesn't respond with the protest. Instead he sighs and leans his head back, eyes closed.

"Katara said that she didn't think of me like that. That I'm her friend. Like her _little brother_." Zuko cringes against the obvious hurt in his voice. And then Aang seems to zero in on him.

"Hey. You're Zuko." He raises an eyebrow. Aang shakes his head, starting over.

"Toph told me you were, like, stalking me. 'S'at true?"

Zuko stares.

"I'm not stalking you. I don't even know where you live." But there's obvious guilt in his voice, and Aang leers.

"She said there were pictures. Lemme see." He lunges for Zuko's bag, and has it before Zuko can get a grip on it. He finds Zuko's camera, and Zuko mentally prepares for a chewing-out or a gasp of disgust, or even-

"Oh, wow! You make me look actually, you know, attractive. A little." -_not that. _Zuko's jaw falls to the ground, he's sure, as he spits out,

"Are you kidding me? I didn't do _anything_, you're perfectly capable of being absolutely beautiful without my-" And then he bites his tongue, and pulls his camera carefully out of Aang's hands as he flushes. Aang is flushed as well, but he smiles softly, covering it with his hand like he's secretly pleased. And if he presses a bit closer to Zuko without a word, well, he's not complaining.

**-FIRE NATION- AIR NOMADS- WATER TRIBE- EARTH KINGDOM-**

They're friends, and it's more than Zuko deserves, more than he'd ever be willing to ask for.

Some days, he feels like an idiot because he's smiling so much. But he doesn't care.

Aang comes into the shop and helps him sometimes, bumping elbows with him as they wade elbow-deep in soapy water and dishes. Aang will splash him, folding his lips into his mouth to stop from giggling. And Zuko will smile and do nothing until Aang reaches for the sink's sprayer. Then he takes a giant armful of bubbles and flings them at Aang. This starts an all-out water war, and Uncle gets wrapped up in it too when he walks in to check how things are going. They all end up on the floor, too weak with laughter to clean it up at the moment.

And even though he's soaked to the bone and the soap is drying on his skin, Zuko couldn't be happier.

**-FIRE NATION- AIR NOMADS- WATER TRIBE- EARTH KINGDOM-**

The first time Aang asks if he can stay over Zuko's house, he says no. Aang begs and squirms and puppy-dog-eyes at him. But he says, so firmly that it cannot be argued with, _no._

Because even if they're just friends, he doesn't trust himself. Aang, vulnerably innocent, asleep on his floor/in his room/in his _bed_? No. Zuko does not have that much control. Could not possibly have that much control, ever.

The original attraction, that Aang is a wonderful person, possess all of the good qualities that Zuko does not, has strengthened and been helped along by physical attraction. Aang is incredibly talented, the few times they've sparred, and Zuko can't land a hit, even when he's seriously trying to. But Aang doesn't land any either, a thought that he relishes. Now that past is past, he's taking serious joy in how well he's progressed.

And Aang, even though he knows Tai Chi and that thing Toph was teaching him, and some other, slippery, all-over-the-place evasive style, he asks Zuko to teach him Northern Shaolin.

This is his undoing, in all the tentative control he has that keeps him from "accidentally" touching Aang through the day. It is completely and utterly ripped from his body when he shows up at the clearing to teach Aang the basic forms, and Aang is _dancing_.

People walking down the sidewalk stare, someone wolf-whistles. Maybe it's him, he can't really tell. Aang doesn't even hear it, because he's got earphones in and is shaking his ass like no one's business. He mouths the words silently along with the music, and Zuko can see the shadows of his training in his movements. His eyes are closed, and Zuko just stares, slack-jawed, until he thinks he's going to do something stupid.

He manages to snap a few pictures before Aang looks up, and abruptly looks embarrassed. Zuko gets that on film, too, which earns him a swat and a nervous giggle. Zuko clears his throat.

"A: what are you listening to, and B: _where_ did you learn to dance like _that_?" Aang flushed and laughed again.

"The wonderful La Roux, for A, and for B, you get nada." Zuko stuck his tongue, but the flirtation was a bit overwhelming, so he made a mental note to look up the band later and set about figuring out what Aang already knew. Aang, of course, was full of surprises, so he said peevishly.

"I know how to squat and breathe and feel the sun. That's about it." Zuko snorted.

"Jongjong?" Aang blinked.

"You know Jongjong?" Stretching lightly, Zuko nodded.

"Yeah, he and my Uncle play Pai Sho sometimes." The rest of the afternoon is spent showing Aang the most basic of forms, adjusting his stance in the touchiest but most innocent way possible, and another sparring session. They both go at it with everything, Zuko determined to land just one hit and Aang determined to thumb his nose at Zuko's determination. And then Aang took Zuko's training to heart, the advice that in Northern Shaolin, the root is everything. To break the root breaks the opponent's concentration, and Aang hits him with a leg sweep that he should have seen coming from a mile away, but was too distracted by his smile. He goes down hard enough to be breathless when Aang jumps on him, and there's awkward silence as Zuko almost-but-not-quite draws Aang closer. They're both sweaty and panting and flushed and _dear Lord, _why was he so masochistic? He pushed Aang off none too gently and made an overly-cheerful-and-entirely-false excuse about it being his turn to make dinner. Aang made an equally phony excuse to leave, and as Zuko ran home, he wondered if his…_interest_in Aang isn't reciprocated.

That night, he listens to the band in the shower as he jacks off and thinks of Aang.

**-FIRE NATION- AIR NOMADS- WATER TRIBE- EARTH KINGDOM-**

That same night, as he's lying in bed and thinking of how welcome air conditioning would be, and whether or not he should take off his boxers, the gentle rain outside doing absolutely nothing for the heat, there's a loud rap on his window.

Zuko nearly jumps out of his skin as he gets up to answer it, and finds Aang sitting on the ledge, soaked. He's only in wet, decidedly clingy boxers, an unzipped hoodie, and tennis shoes. He smirks as Zuko flushes, and slinks his way into Zuko's room with an air of bemusement.

"You know, I've been thinking," Aang starts, as he glances around the room, taking in the small altar open in the cupboard, the desk, the ruffled bed. Zuko shifts uncomfortably to lean against the abandoned sill. Aang finally turns back towards him, short hair matted. His eyes are too sultry to be so young, so very young, Zuko reminds himself, as Aang steps close enough for their legs to brush. His breath catches when Aang speaks again, voice low and private and _gods,_ is that supposed to be a _bedroom voice_? Surely not. Not at him, not on a fourteen year old. But it sounds very convincingly like one, and he should concentrate on the words, not the voice, right? That turns out to be a mistake, because Aang says,

"that we've been playing ring-around-the-rosie long enough. You like me, right, Zuko?" Zuko strains, from every part of his soul and body, to say no. A hushed yes bubbles out of him instead, and he curses himself as he struggles to tear his eyes away from Aang's mouth. Slim hands come to rest on the windowsill, on either side of his hips. He closes his eyes as a shudder so bone-deep that it steals his breath racks him, his breath going ragged when cool breath ghosts across his collarbone and neck.

Aang chuckles and brushes his fingers up Zuko's side, so feather-light he could be imagining it, but then Aang's mouth is against his pulse, his tongue sliding across skin and he bites just hard enough to make Zuko gasp, and then he has to say something stupid, has to blurt out the one thing that his dick would kill him for, if it wasn't attached.

"God, this is wrong, you're only fourteen, oh, _fuck_-" And then all skin-to-skin contact was broken, and he was staring dazedly at Aang, who was glaring at him in return.

"Fourteen? Who the- Did Toph tell you that?" He nodded, and Aang blew a breath at the ceiling as he bent down to fish around in his…shoe. He finally produced something with a flourish, letting Zuko take it incredulously.

It was a slightly bent New York driver's license, with Aang's picture, name, and age on it. And it said seventeen. Zuko looked between it and Aang multiple times, who simply looked pissed off.

"Well, now that you've _carded me_, can we get on to the exciting part? I can't believe Toph would do this, God." Aang took his license back, dropping it into his shoe as he toed them off. Zuko was still staring. Just as Aang was pulling off his hoodie, he blurted again. Stupid verbal vomit.

"But you're so damn _short_. How can you be seventeen?" Aang glares and starts to put his hoodie back on. Zuko grabs it by the strings, sheepish.

"Sorry, but you _are_really short." Aang's blushing now, still trying to look peeved but too busy letting Zuko slip the hoodie back off to really accomplish that.

"Yeah, well, you're just too tall." Zuko hums, letting his complete amazement and joy spill over into his grin. Aang can't help but grin back, and then he wraps his arms around Zuko's neck and drags him down for a kiss. It's hot and heady and Aang isn't playing around, going from chaste to positively tongue-fucking in a millisecond. And then he curls his tongue around Zuko's one last time and draws back.

There's a little tablet in his mouth, round and tasting like root beer. He cracks it between his teeth and grinds it apart a little, then swoops down for another kiss, the fizzling of pseudo-carbonation coloring the kiss. Aang laughs into his mouth as he pulls him off his feet, knees gripping his waist and suddenly Aang has enough leverage to force him to tip his head back, his stance wobbling slightly. He drops them onto the bed, feverish lust spiking in his veins when Aang sees him staring and draws his arms above his head to strike a more appealing picture.

Pictures. Zuko grins against Aang's collarbone, imprinting it into the skin before pulling back to dig through his bag. Aang flushes deeply when he pulls out the camera, and squirms for moment.

"Zuko, wait-" _Flash_. Aang's blatantly wanton pose is on film, and no amount of whining will get that picture deleted. Then Aang takes revenge by squeezing his erection through his shorts, and the camera falls from his nerveless fingers to bounce off the mattress and onto the floor. He bites his lip as Aang grins and squeezes again, twisting his wrist and applying just the right amount of pressure to the head. Zuko groans deeply in his throat, and Aang's grin is ridiculously filthy.

"Shut up," Zuko growls, kissing Aang savagely until he can't breathe. This just makes Aang grin wider, slightly dazed as he sucks in oxygen. That shouldn't be so sexy, but it is. Aang yanks him down by his hair, their lips just touching before Aang sticks his tongue in his ear and Zuko _yelps _in shock. Aang's laughter is deep and lewd, right in his ear, and he's doing ridiculous things with that tongue of his that make Zuko feel like jelly. His hands wander teasingly across Zuko's body, and then gracelessly shucks off his boxers. Aang hums something unfamiliar but unbearably catchy as he licks his way down Zuko's throat, and Zuko is helpless as Aang's hands smooth down his thighs, then skirt over his hips to knead at his stomach.

"Your abs are ridiculous," Aang mutters sulkily against his shoulder, then giggles breathily when Zuko presses his bare hips against Aang's. Zuko suddenly remembers that, hey, this whole sex thing goes both ways, and greedily presses his hands against Aang's skin, thumbs too tight on the curve of his pelvis. Aang squirms as Zuko bites into his collarbone, bucking his hips against Zuko's again. Zuko's trying to think of whether or not he has any condoms, and Aang was making it _really _hard to think at all.

Aang's leg loops up over his waist, his hands squeezing Zuko's shoulders when he pulls back. Zuko smiles when he sees Aang chewing on his bottom lip, eyes half-lidded and cheeks flushed.

"You didn't bring a, uh, condom, did you?" Awkward, awkward silence as Aang slowly blinks at him.

"No. You don't have-?" Zuko shakes his head, ducking down to wiggle his tongue against the sensitive side of Aang's neck. Aang's snorts delicately, squirming, then mutters "Fuck it! I don't have herpes, do you?" He shakes his head, and Aang maneuvers himself jerkily out of his own boxers.

The first few strokes make Aang writhe and whine, short nails biting into his shoulders as he bucked helplessly into Zuko's hand. Zuko decided to put his mouth to good use and traces shapes into Aang's skin, one of his hands shifting to grip his hair again. Aang pants and shivers as Zuko's rhythm speeds up, and then suddenly arches, crying out softly as until he collapses again, flushed hotly and boneless. Zuko wipes his hand against the sheets and kisses Aang softly while his heart rate steadily evens out.

"That was pretty quick, huh?" Zuko says smugly. Aang slaps him weakly on the arm, glaring.

"Whatever, ass. Like you could last any longer." He grins, raising an eyebrow as he fans his fingers across Aang's leg absently, squeezing his thigh.

"Yeah? Is that a challenge?" Aang waggles his eyebrows enthusiastically, which startled a laugh out of Zuko. He ghosts his fingers lower, watching Aang's expression as it went from leeringly obscene to pensive. He bit his lip as Zuko pushed lightly, nervous fingers dancing across his skin.

Preparation was slow and careful, if not a little rough without any lube. Aang didn't seem to be familiar with the press of fingers inside him, grimacing slightly as Zuko dug deeper. His muscles tightened spasmodically, threatening to push Zuko out completely until he could coax Aang to relax. By the time he could spread three fingers in Aang, sweat was rolling easily down his back, the clamminess of salt water gathering in the crook of Aang's knees and the dip of his stomach. Aang had long since braced one hand against the headboard, Zuko's thrusts rocking him gently back and forth as little mewls of pleasure spill out of his mouth. Aang was ready, as ready as he was ever going to be, but he wanted to find-

"Ahh!" -_that. _Aang cut himself off with a slight hiss as he pushed his hips back, trying to find that spot again. His eyes were glazed and his fingers clenched harshly against Zuko's shoulder blades when he touched Aang's prostate again, lifting his hips to rut against Zuko's stomach. With one last twist of his fingers, Zuko withdrew.

Aang was ridiculously pliable, now that he'd been worked up to another erection, and moved however Zuko made him. With one knee hooked over his shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist, Zuko planted his hands on the mattress and pushed forward.

Aang's soft, pained keen mingled with his surprised gasp, and Zuko's arms were trembling with the sudden effort of holding himself up, of not thrusting forward as hard as he could until everything bled together. Aang was so tight, too dry, and it was good, way better than he'd expected. Aang seems seriously unable to breathe, eyes scrunched shut and pretty little mouth in an "o" of surprise.

Twisting dirtily, Aang pressed his heel into the small of Zuko's back, eagerly shocking Zuko into sinking deeper. Despite his heavy gasps, he licked his lips hungrily and pressed again, and Zuko was putty in his hands, brushing against that spot again and their moans strung wetly together in the humid air. Gently undulating his hips back and forth, he worked Aang higher and higher, until his hands were digging savage rows of crescents into Zuko's shoulders and ever movement was punctuated with a fluttery of heavy lashes and a breathy moan. Zuko was working towards his own orgasm, but he was utterly determined to draw it out as long as possible, his thrusts teasing and vague. Aang curls gingerly in his hands, his expression pleading and desperate.

Aang jacks his hips up slightly higher, and the angle gets so much deeper and Zuko slips.

When Zuko finally blinked and saw light, Aang was flushed and smiling happily, limbs akimbo beneath him.

"Well, you won. Wanna prove me wrong again?" Aang wriggled his hips enticingly, sending a shock down Zuko's spine. Exhausted, he eased out of Aang's body and flopped, watery and boneless, onto the mattress. And then he remembered his camera, and lazily squashed Aang as he pulled it off of the floor and snapped another picture of him.

They spent the hours until sunup bickering over the camera, fondly snapping at each other until exhaustion finally tangled them in the sheets together.

**-FIRE NATION- AIR NOMADS- WATER TRIBE- EARTH KINGDOM-**

Zuko was startled awake the next morning by a terrified squeal and a the slamming of his bedroom door as Aang dashed back into bedroom. The alarm clock read 7:43 AM. Zuko groaned and groped across the bed for his sheet, which was wrapped around Aang's waist when he looked up.

"C'mere," he commanded. Aang leaned close, trying to press a kiss to his jaw, which he dodged in favor of stealing his sheet back. Flopping over and curling in his sheet, he tried desperately to go back to sleep.

No such luck, as Aang leaped onto him and pounded him with a pillow, shouting,

"Zuko, get up! I just had an embarrassingly naked encounter with your Uncle, you need to make sure he didn't go into cardiac arrest!" Groaning, Zuko snagged him into a hug and pinned him to his side, grumbling tiredly to himself.

"I'm sleeping, Aang. I bitch when I don't get sleep. So be quiet." Aang was silent for all of twenty four seconds.

"Seriously, get up. Please?" Sighing in half disgust, half exhaustion, Zuko dragged himself off the bed and rubbed his hands through his hair, feeling distinctly gross. Sweat was caked in uncomfortable places, never mind other bodily fluids. His bad mood was slightly diminished when Aang crouched to rifle through the bottom drawer of his dresser, bare ass bobbing pleasantly. And then he looks around and grins, pulling on one of Zuko's shirts that's too big on him. Only then does he notice the red lacquer that's on his nails.

Ah, how Zuko loved mornings.

**AN:** TADA! It's done and up. I rather like this one, as it's sort of sweet and tragic until the end. Then there be smut to finish it off. XD Sorry if there are any weird tense changes or anything, but I fixed as many as I found. Also, I suggest you review. And by "I suggest" I mean "I really want you to and would be intensely disappointed if you didn't." XD


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